


Simple Past

by nuclearwinter



Series: Pleonasms [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, First Dates, Incest, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7136108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearwinter/pseuds/nuclearwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave works up the courage to ask Dirk on a date. Sort of. Well, it's implied. Ironically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Past

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter brought to you today by the letter F-the-drama and the [number 10](https://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/beatup).

"That was _bullshit_ ," Dave swears as, yet again, Tony Hawk goes flying off the elephant and bounces awkwardly off a rock. "God, it keeps shitting all over me."

"Give it a rest then," says Dirk. He's at the desktop, working on an essay, it seems. He's been at it all day.

"No," says Dave, "not yet. I've totally got it." He wheels round to trigger the mission again. "I just can't get over the fact that they make it shit on you, though. Like, a team of people went, you know what this skating game needs? A shitty CG elephant that launches turd balls from vaguely around its badly rendered ass."

"I can't get over the fact that you're still so bad at this game when you've been playing it for fifteen years," says Dirk.

"It's about the journey," says Dave.

He doesn't bother to correct Dirk that he hasn't been playing Tony Hawk for fifteen years. Bro barely let him touch the consoles at all when he was little, but thanks to the 'if you stay silent you can stay up as late as you like' unspoken rule, he'd used to bury himself in the couch cushions to watch, careful not to breathe too loud in case he distracted Bro and got sent to bed. So, yeah, he can probably get away with letting Dirk think he's played it that long. He does know pretty much every way to glitch this game, after all. It's one of his favourite ways to relax.

He hears Dirk get up and pad away into the kitchenette. Okay, now or never.

The fridge door clicks open. 3… 2… 1…

"What do you want for dinner?" Dirk calls.

"We should do something different," says Dave. "And no, honey, you're a great cook, Sandra from the PTA was definitely jealous of your casserole."

"Guess you stay out of the dog house tonight," says Dirk. "I'd ask if you wanted to order in, but that wouldn't constitute 'different'. I'm guessing you want to go out?"

Dave wipes the controller on his jeans. Fucking Dirk. "Yeah. If you're not like, tired or whatever. Just, we've been cooped up in here studying all day and it'd be good to get out."

"You haven't been studying."

"Excuse you, I've been studying the principles of raditude from the Hawkman himself."

"I have some criticism regarding your approach," says Dirk, leaning over the back of the sofa. "But you're right. It'd be nice to get out. Sandra from the PTA's husband takes _her_ out every week."

"Well, shit," says Dave. He jumps up and shuts the console off without saving. "I'll go get changed and we can go."

He can nearly feel Dirk giving him an up-and-down. "What's wrong with what you have on?"

"How can we stick it to the Dinklebergs if I hit the town looking like I spent the day eating Doritos on the couch?"

"Ah, in that case, I'd better change, too."

"Awesome. Let's have them snapping zest 'n presses in rage at the next tupperware party."

This earns him a fist-bump, and then Dave heads into his room to hurry as much as he can to dig out the pieces of his nicest outfit and throw them on the bed. He can't come off like he actually… thought about this.

His nicest black jeans have been washed, and the deep red button up shirt has been ironed. He wavers but decides to go with the douchey skinny tie, because it's just out of style enough that he can rack up irony points.

A quick run of gel through his hair and fresh deodorant and okay, good enough. He stares at his own face in the mirror for a second or two.

If he let himself dwell, maybe he'd be nervous about what could be read into his joke, but… sometimes he can slide into a space where he feels like he can do anything, say anything, get away with anything, so long as he plays it chill. That same chill that has carried him through a million do-it-for-the-vine moments now carries him out his bedroom door.

He has time to find his nice shoes in the shoe cupboard before Dirk comes out, and Dave feels something ease up in his body because, cool. Dirk was on the same wavelength. In fact, Dirk has kind of one upped him with a douchey fucking hat. Dave is half mad and half delighted.

Dirk gives him a very small smile. "Riots at the tupperware party indeed," he says, and Dave feels his chest go light.

It's only a bit of a walk to the city centre, and it's really nice like this, the night air and the lights, the feeling of being a bit dressed up, the smell of Dirk's deodorant.

They end up at a burger place being run out of a remodelled shipping container. This joint serves bleu cheese dip for the fries and the seats are wooden stools around cast iron garden tables set up outside. When they've sat down with their food they have a grand old time ripping quietly on everything from the fairy lights hung on the side of the shipping container to the Korean R&B they're playing for some reason.

Dave snorts. "My Bro would say these people would have gotten bashed in the old days."

"God, my brother is messed up."

"Hey, come on, we were ripping on them too."

"Yeah, but when we do it it's self-deprecatory and therefore ironic."

Dave snorts and Dirk nudges his ankle.

"Okay. I admit it, I am extremely gay for fairy lights," says Dave.

"We could get some," says Dirk, and even though they're both wearing shades at night, Dave has had enough experience to be able to tell Dirk's watching his face.

"Let's fucking do it," he says.

They get the rest of their meal doggie-bagged and go, still shooting the shit. Dirk's apparently meant to be doing a scholarly analysis of some popular YA novel he believes the syllabus makers picked to appeal to first year students, and Dirk is having trouble playing his essay straight, to say the least.

They catch a bus and have to stand, Dirk regaling his actual 'analysis' of the novel putting Dave's poker face to an extreme stress test. He hopes Dirk's professors can appreciate what a gem of a mind they have on their hands. Feeling a little high off the mood, he grabs Dirk's bicep instead of the hanging strap and pretends to swoon when Dirk flexes it under his hand.

After a short and slightly traumatising adventure in Walmart, they emerge triumphant with a whole bunch of fairy lights. They wander until they find a park, and sit on the edge of a fountain and finish their food, which is slightly cold.

Dave can't shut up, he knows he's making terrible jokes—thinks he’s probably signalling a desperate 'this is what you signed up for' with his eyes. It's darker in the park and Dirk took off his shades, so Dave has taken his off, too.

The way Dirk looks at him though, with this fond curl to his mouth—Dave thinks, _god, I'm sorry I'm so dumb, this is exactly what my Bro always gave me shit for, not that you make me feel dumb at all, I love talking to you_ , and realises he's said most of it out loud and has to cram some lukewarm fries into his mouth before he says anything else stupider.

Dirk's fingers smooth the edges of his paper bag. "You keep bringing up your dad," he says, cutting straight in like a deathbot programmed to blow uncomfortable topics open.

"I really don't mean to," says Dave, and it's true. He probably shouldn't have picked Tony Hawk today.

"If stuff is getting weird we can… talk about it," says Dirk. It sounds like he wants to do that about as much as Dave does.

"No! It's not weird. Stuff's. Not Weird. Or like, not weird in that way. But…" Dirk's fingers fold the paper bag a little tighter, and Dave has to hurry to figure out how to say what's been swimming around his head. "It's just. I can't help but compare you guys and… you're so different. It always hits me."

"Well," says Dirk, "I've barely seen him my entire life. It'd be weirder if we were more alike. Actually, do you know what I think's weird? You don't seem to have anything against my parents. Like, I guess I assumed growing up that my brother's kid would _ancient grudge break to new mutiny_ , etcetera."

They have somehow managed to avoid talking about this directly in all the years they've been in contact, and Dave's heart is beating fast. He hates conflict and Dirk's voice is so careful.

"Well," says Dave, "I dunno. I… figured out his uh. Issues. From stuff he said, but even though I never saw them they were always so nice to me, never forgot a single birthday or Christmas or other grandparent-vital event, so."

They chew on the fries for a bit.

'Well," says Dirk, "I've always been really happy that you're cool."

Dave knows his cheeks are heating up. What a weird thing to be called 'cool' over.

But when he sneaks a look at Dirk, Dirk is already looking, and that's. That's the face—the 'calculating the best angle of attack' face—and so he leans in to meet him. Dirk just presses their lips together once but then, like always, it's not enough. One turns into two blends into three, and then Dave is tasting the salt on Dirk's lips with his tongue.

He knows it's so fucked up, but it matters so little when Dirk makes him feel like this.

They break apart when some jogger comes past, and they definitely don't giggle nervously, nope, both of them are way too suave for that shit.

"Let's head home," says Dirk, lifting the Walmart bag, "I wanna put these up."

Dave gets up too. "We are awesome," he says.

"We are so, so awesome," he says later, when they've finished stringing the living room with fairy lights.

Dirk flips the ceiling lights off, and Dave plugs them in.

Damn, it is pretty gay. So stupid and ironic that it assfucked itself right into sincere.

They lie with their backs on the coffee table, feet planted on the floor, because it's better than itchy carpet or the shitty sofa, even though the glass creaks a little.

"Well, not that I have any prior experience, but that was a pretty nice date," says Dirk.

Dave smacks him on the stomach, then grabs his wrist before he can retaliate and break the table. _You weren't supposed to say it out loud_ , he tries to transmit telepathically. Instead, he says, "Did I unlock a special scene?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth he wants to cram his foot in there. Fuck. He didn't mean it like that.

But Dirk says, "Mmm CJ, how about a little… coffee?" and despite the nerves and the voice in his head screaming that he's fucking it up, he finds himself smiling into Dirk's mouth.

Dirk bites Dave's bottom lip gently, lets it pop.

"Oh shit," says Dave.

"We can, if you want," says Dirk, and Dave knows automatically, instinctively, that he means something different from what they've done together so far.

Everything is glowing softly and reflecting over and over in the glass beneath them. Dirk's eyes are cast a steady amber and Dave's chest is tight. He nearly—he nearly feels like it's too much at once, it's not him, this isn't him—

"Only if you want," Dirk says, voice low and close and Dave, he…

He waits a heartbeat, and he says, "Yeah, I, yeah…"

Dirk kisses him, lips hitting Dave's surprisingly hard, and then he's pulling back and getting up. "In here?"

"Uh…" Dave scrambles to sit up. They really can't… do this… on the coffee table. "Yeah, that's. Okay. We can get blankets?"

"Would you take care of it? I've got to, I have to do some stuff." He has turned away to grab his hat from the sofa.

Holy fuck. "So—"

Dirk turns back around, and he's still warm and golden under the lights in his nice clothes and Dave needs to go like, chug a Sports Drink and punch a wall. "Yeah, I. Assumed, well, that's what you want, isn't it?"

"If you…"

"I do," says Dirk. "I want you so bad."

His voice is as flat as ever, but his hands are tight on his stupid hat and Dave jumps to his feet, bounces a little, and pecks him across the mouth. "Cool, I got this. Go do your thing."

In his bedroom, he takes a second to breathe, studiously avoiding the mirror because goddamn he's not _that_ much of a cliché, not at least twice in one evening, and then starts gathering blankets in his arms.

When he enters the living room again, Dirk is gone. Dave busies himself with the task of making the couch actually comfortable, and tries very hard not to listen out for whatever Dirk is doing.

He's had sex. With girls. It can't be that different, right?

He's just finished spreading the blankets over the shitty cushions when he hears Dirk enter the room.

"How's this?" Dave asks, trying to keep his eyes from sliding off Dirk and fixing on the floor or something lame like that. Dirk has changed into those goddamn sweatpants, and he's holding another blanket bundled up in his arms.

"Looks good. I mean, not that I'm any kind of expert on sex nest construction." He moves in closer to the couch, and Dave drifts a few steps back to give him space, and definitely not to make sure Dirk can't see his sudden blush. "But let me just—" He takes some things out of the blanket bundle and puts them on the floor, and Dave eyes them as Dirk shakes the blanket out over the sofa. An intimidating 8.5 fl oz bottle of lube with a hot pink label, a handful of condoms, a hand towel and a packet of wet wipes.

Fuck, Dirk is such a nerd.

"What's that blanket for?" The side Dirk's settled up looks like quilted white cotton.

"It's extremely absorbent. It's not particularly nice to look at, but this way you'll actually have blankets to sleep on tonight."

_Nerd._ He can't stop his mouth from quirking up.

"Cool," he says, and steps in close, sliding his hands around Dirk's naked middle and, heart thudding, presses his lips to the first bump of his bowed neck.

Dirk stops fiddling with the edge of the blanket and leans back into Dave's arms, the heavy warmth of his head falling back onto Dave's shoulder and opening up his neck for more kisses.

Well, Dave's not gonna pass up an opportunity like that. He sucks at the skin under his mouth, and Dirk's hands land over his, trying to guide them down.

"Eager, huh," Dave says against Dirk's neck, making Dirk twitch satisfyingly.

"Oh no, I'm completely uninterested in this entire affair, bro," says Dirk, flatly, but he lets Dave push him down onto the couch and crawl between his legs, and his mouth opens up so soft and easy for Dave's tongue.

They kiss and rub together until they're both panting, Dirk's hands working blindly at the buttons on Dave's shirt until their chests can press together skin to skin. Dave would help him out, but his hands are happy in Dirk's hair.

"You taking off those jeans anytime soon?" Dirk asks when they break apart. His lips are swollen and wet and Dave wants to kiss him forever, but he pulls away and stands up.

"You gonna show me the goods too?" he asks, stripping completely. He's at that level of horny that he can't even give a fuck, Dirk's eyes on him just make him hotter. Then he picks up the lube and a condom.

Dirk's eyes snap to his hand. "Eager, huh?" he says, and Dave can't even be mad at his own line being used against him, because Dirk is pushing his sweatpants down his hips and kicking them off without getting up, revealing his long toned legs and his hard dick.

"Yeah, duh," says Dave, and for some reason it makes Dirk flush. It looks good on him. Dave wants to make it go all the way down to his chest like he's seen before. He is pretty sure he can make that happen. Like, mostly sure.

Attempting to banish all stupid paranoid worries to the back of his mind, he climbs back over Dirk with the goods.

"You might need to talk me through this a bit," he says, kneeling between Dirk's bent legs. There's no way this is going to go well if he tries to wing it. Dirk obviously knows how this goes down; he has a fucking supply kit.

"All right." Dirk pulls him down for a kiss, and god, all that warm naked skin against his is amazing. Then Dirk pulls away and lets him hide his face in his shoulder, just a little. "I don't really need any more prep. I usually—um, I don't need more prep. So you don't have to use your fingers, unless that's a thing you want to do." Dave hums and kisses his collarbone. "And don't be scared of the lube, the blanket can handle it."

"Cool," Dave says. Maybe next time can be the smooth, wordless, intuitive sexy time. Fuck, if there's even a next time. He sits up and gets a condom on. That's something he can do with minimal fuckery by now, at least. Then he flicks the top of the lube open, and drizzles it into his hand. It comes out thicker than he's used to, sitting in slippery globs, and when he wraps his hand around his own cock it glides amazingly, sending tight heat through his body.

Dirk takes the bottle from him and slicks up his own hand before setting it down between himself and the back of the couch, and then. Whoa. He starts touching himself, too, wet hand pumping slowly at his dick, the other pinching one of his own nipples. His slick fingers shine a little in the soft light, and Dave can't look away. Dirk is stretched out in front of him, definitely putting on a show, and yeah okay, Dave is an easy guy. He watches Dirk bite his own lip a little, and when he flicks his eyes up, Dirk's gaze is intense. Arousal spikes hard in Dave's guts, grip on his cock getting tighter, and when Dirk starts twisting his other nipple into hardness and squirming against the armrest, Dave's dick leaks a little under the latex. Then Dirk's hand leaves his cock to press down under his own balls, down—

Oh, shit.

"Ready?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady, and when Dirk nods, he slides off the couch, pulling at Dirk to shift with him until his head and shoulders are propped up against the back of the couch, legs spread around where Dave kneels on the floor.

He presses Dirk's thighs up, and even though the motions are familiar the sight of Dirk's red cock pressed against his stomach from this angle is new, and the particular vulnerability in his tight body and narrow hips is new. It's not scary, or weird, though. It's just burningly, overwhelmingly hot.

Dirk waits while he reapplies lube because hey, why not, and lets him put his thighs on his shoulders.

Then Dave pushes in.

Or tries to, in any case. His dick slides against Dirk's asshole and pushes up against his balls instead. Since it makes Dirk moan and grip his own hair, Dave decides to pretend he meant to do that, and holds his cock tight as he teases Dirk's hole with the head.

He can feel it squeezing tight when he coaxes the rim with it, and holy fuck. He is so fucking sweaty, prickling all over with it, his hips are burning just to fuck right in.

"Come on," says Dirk, bouncing his calf against Dave's shoulder a little, and Dave reaches up to grab it with his free hand.

On the next push, Dirk's body opens up.

"Go slow, go slow," Dirk gasps.

"Sorry, sorry," says Dave, doing his best. He's never been in anything so tight.

"Don't—don't say sorry, it's good, it's—"

But Dave pulls out slowly anyway, slicks up again with the thick globby lube. It doesn't feel like Dirk is that wet inside already, maybe he didn't finger himself in the bathroom like Dave definitely wasn't imagining, maybe he likes the feeling of being opened up like this, likes having lube pushed up into him by a hot hard cock—

Oh fuck. Think unsexy things. That essay due next week. What was the word count again? How many sources did he need?

He pushes back into Dirk, and it goes in so much easier now. Dirk makes a sound that could probably called a squeak.

"Can I go?"

He nearly squeaks himself as he feels Dirk's ass clench down tight, and Dirk wiggles a little, like he's testing himself.

"Just… little ones, yeah?"

He has one hand over the backrest and one hand behind his head, and there's colour high on his cheeks and his chest is rising and falling with slow breaths, and oh fuck, it hits Dave that he's inside Dirk. Dave's cock has his asshole stretched and pink and oh, oh.

"Gotcha," he manages, and gives a little thrust, and then another, making himself build it slowly, watching Dirk bite his lip and arch his back.

Just to be evil, he pulls out and lubes up one more time, Dirk swearing and nearly kicking him in the chest, and this time when he leans back in, Dave gets a knee up on the edge of the sofa and something about the shift has Dirk choking and gasping and clutching at the backrest.

It's easy to fall into long, smooth strokes, a steady rhythm. This part, at least, he's confident about. Dirk gives a shuddery sigh and presses into him, and his confidence builds.

He keeps going until his thighs start to burn a little and his knees sting on the carpet, but it fades into the hot tight pleasure winding through him. Every little sigh he wins from Dirk pushes him higher, like he could do this all night.

"Is it good?" he hears himself ask.

"Y-yeah, ama-a-a-zing," Dirk says, voice punching out in time with Dave's thrusts. "You're—so good—"

Dave moans embarrassingly loudly, his brain lighting up in terror as he feels his orgasm ratchet closer.

But then Dirk says, "Stop," and they slide apart with a groan in stereo.

"I thought—"

"That was perfect," he says, smoothing Dave's sweaty hair back. Dave's dick throbs. "You're so good to me." Is Dave this fucking transparent? This isn't fair. He puts his face down and breathes shakily into Dirk's stomach. "But, save your knees and get up here for now."

"My knees are fine," he mumbles, but he gets up onto the couch and lets Dirk push him onto his back.

The blanket is soft and cottony underneath him, and even though the cushions shift weirdly under them, the nest stays intact as Dirk straddles him, gripping his own hard dick in one hand and reaching back to hold Dave's with the other.

He guides it in all by himself and slides down until he's sitting flush, tight wet pressure frying Dave's brain, and he starts rubbing at his own tight balls inches from Dave's face.

Okay, Dave can see the merits of this position.

Then he has to press his lips together to stop himself making an embarrassing noise as Dirk starts moving his hips. He's rocking with Dave's cock deep inside him, tiny evil circles, and it's not enough and too much and Dave's hands end up under Dirk's ass, trying to make him bounce.

Dirk snorts, then moans and squeezes his own dick. He leans back, grabbing Dave's bent knee and getting a foot on the floor and lifting himself up a little higher and coming down a little harder and okay, all right, he needs at least six sources for his essay, he should rope the others into a study group at the campus library or something, and he needs to figure out what the title should be, and nope, no, Dirk is making the best breathy noises, thighs flexing and hand stripping his cock and hips rocking like he's found the perfect angle and Dave's cock is filling him up just right.

On his back, he has a much better view of all the strings of lights, and they shine through Dirk's messed up hair, paint the sweat on his body golden. Dave wants to make him feel so good. He pushes up into him, finding and matching his rhythm, and Dirk starts moaning in a way that nearly scares Dave. He's never heard him make these sounds before, deep low moans that catch and hitch into whines in his throat. His hips circle harder and his wrist twists faster and Dave's own orgasm is hovering so close, watching Dirk fall apart.

Dirk falls back down onto his knees, one of them pushing down between the back of the sofa and the cushions, the other one shoving up under Dave's armpit, and his asshole squeezes Dave's cock so hard it nearly hurts.

"Dirk," he gasps. "Dirk—fuck, you're so hot. Do it, do it—show me—"

Dirk's eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth presses tight, then he chokes out a moan right from his guts and squeezes hard and comes all over Dave's chest.

Dave manages to hold himself still, letting Dirk work his hips and take what he needs, until Dirk gives a whine that Dave feels down to his toes and says, "Come on, go," and Dave does.

He grabs Dirks hips and lets go, fucks Dirk's hole hard and fast, hearing himself say things in the realm of _so good_ and _gonna make me come_ and _fuck me_.

The edge has been so close for so long that it's nearly hard to let himself fall over it, his body tight and wound up and shaking, but then Dirk bounces into his rhythm, cock soft and body straining, eyes heavy and reflecting golden light and, and that's it.

Dave feels it overtake him, loses track of what his face is doing and his mouth is saying as he presses up deep into Dirk's ass and comes.

"God," says Dirk, pulling off, and Dave gasps and clutches at him. "That was hot."

"Ugnhn," says Dave, and then he makes an even less coherent sound as Dirk takes the condom off for him and probably deals with it, Dave doesn't know or care. Then he jumps and swears as something cold and wet slides over his stomach.

Dave nearly grumbles, but then he realises he doesn't particularly want to be cemented together during bro cuddles, and he also doesn't particularly want to talk about bro cuddles out loud.

He gets them anyway.

Dirk curls up on his chest, sweaty and smelling like sex, and Dave stares up at the lights for a while and feels Dirk's heart beat.

He finds Dirk's hand.

"Does your ass hurt? God, sorry, I am the worst at pillow talk."

Dirk squeezes his hand. "You're fine. It doesn't hurt. I just kind of want a shower."

"...Now?"

"Nah," says Dirk. His free hand is exploring Dave's chest in stops and starts, and the unpracticed, shy little motions are enough to push a shuddery breath out of Dave.

"Are _you_ okay?" Dirk asks.

"Uh, why?" Dave says. "I mean, maybe I'm gonna be a little sore in the morning? I'm not _that_ out of shape."

"I meant... "

Oh. He meant feelings. He can't see Dirk's face from this angle, just a whole lot of blond hair.

He makes himself think, _I fucked my uncle_ , prods at it like he's checking for a bruise. The blanket is soft under his naked back. The fairy lights glow softly above. Dirk is heavy on his chest, which is warm and loose.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Well, at least we're a step removed from the ultimate cliche: redneck cousin fucking."

"Actually, we share more DNA than cousins would. Cousins have a relatedness coefficient of 12.5%, and we have 25%."

"I take it back, you are the worst at pillow talk, it is you."

But not even that makes him twinge, and when they get up on shaky legs they're both smiling.

They start pulling the blankets off the couch, and then they find that the shitty cushions had slipped and Dirk's knee had torn a gigantic hole through the cheap fabric stapled over the base.

"Holy shit."

"We were planning on buying a new one soon anyway."

"You rode me through the couch."

"That fabric is just for aesthetic purposes. The frame is fine, it won't affect the stability of the cushions once they're back on."

"This would make a hilarious story if I didn't have to—wait, are you embarrassed?"

"No. Yes. What do you want me to say? Your dick too bomb."

"Fuck. Pound it."

They do.

**Author's Note:**

> Mina's prompt for this installment was "Dates!! That lead to butt stuff!!" I hope it delivered :) Heaps of thanks also go to Mina for betaing! Also 100000 glitter hearts to [Maim](http://freakyhumanshit.tumblr.com/post/155957312046/day-two-fav-fic-is-a-hard-one-since-i-have-a) for the beautiful art, it made my day ;__;


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